How His Heart Changed
by PotteringTribute
Summary: James Sirius Potter was a cruel jokester. He's tortured poor Ivy MacMillan for seven years now. But in their seventh year, everything will change between them. Can Ivy change James for the better, or is he a lost cause?
1. Chapter 1

How His Heart Changed

Chapter 1

"James!" I can hear my younger brother, Albus, calling after me as I dart through the cluster of families packed tightly together on Platform 9 3/4. However, I ignore him and continue barreling through the crowd, shoving people out of my way and mumbling "excuse me".

Some people give me rude looks, but others look as though they want to faint just by looking at me. I can't help but smirk. I am the legendary James Sirius Potter, son of the renowned wizard Harry James Potter.

I shove my dark hair out of my eyes and finally reach the door to the train, where I levitate my luggage into the corridor. My eyes search for a compartment until they land on one where a single Gryffindor witch sits, reading a book in her robes. I grin. Time to cause trouble.

I saunter into the compartment, running a hand through my hair. I prop my arm up on the doorframe and stand there for a moment before the small witch looks up and notices me. She's got straight, jet-black hair and crystal-blue eyes, which, if you stare into them for too long, look like a vast ocean. She's short, only about 5'3, which is tiny compared to my 5'11 frame.

Her name's Ivy MacMillan, and she's one of the most prudish girls in Gryffindor house. She's also in her seventh year, like me. She's usually pretty quiet, but I know just how to set her off. She's so focused on her studies, it's like she's in her own little world!

Her father, Ernie MacMillan, was killed a few years back, leaving her with her muggleborn mum. I feel bad for Ivy, having lost her dad, but she's just so fun to tease.

"James Potter," Ivy drawls sarcastically. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Glad you think so, Ivykins!" I plop down onto the seat next to her and throw my arm over her shoulder. She flinches and tries to move away, but I have her rooted to the spot.

"What, scared of little James Potter?" I sneer, putting my hand on her thigh and raising my eyebrows suggestively.

I guess I must've been a tad bit too forward because Ivy stands up, snatching at her robes furiously. Her eyes flash dangerously, but behind her anger I can see sadness in her eyes.

She pulls out her wand, which is a slim, shorter wand made of blackthorn wood. It's humble but elegant at the same time, and fits Ivy perfectly.

"If you dare touch me again, Potter, I will hex you into oblivion!" she hisses, malice filling her voice.

Laughing, I stand up and lean over, my lips dangerously close to Ivy's ear. "That's only if you can get me," I murmur, trying to ignore the sweet scent of strawberry that's flooded my senses.

I step out of the room, my luggage still being levitated lazily behind me, leaving a very confused, very angry Ivy MacMillan.

I can only imagine what she'll do when she finds out we're both Head Boy and Girl this year. Just the thought of the look on her face makes me smirk.

I hurriedly find a compartment with my best mate, Fred Weasley, and two girls who look up, their eyes glazing with lust as they see me.

Fred grins at me, glancing at the two girls. One's got shorter, blonde hair and cherry-red lips that she licks with anticipation. The other has long, brunette hair and a huge chest that's nearly spilling over her shirt.

"Oi, Fred, what have we here?" I ask him, eyeing the two girls.

"Just a few friends I found," he replies, a broad smile decorating his face. "This here's Arabella McLaggen," he continues, pointing to the blonde one. "And this one's named Lydia Ogden." Fred points to the brunette.

I grin appreciatively and sit in between the two girls, putting an arm over both of them. "'Ello, there." I smile charmingly and both girls look as though they want to tear my clothes off and shag me right then and there.

The blonde girl bites her lip and looks me in the eyes, raising her eyebrows a little. I nod and she makes her move.

In what seems like a second, she's on top of me, straddling my hips. Her green eyes are wild and her hands make their way to my hair, combing through it. She grabs my face and brings my lips to hers. I smirk as she sticks her tongue in my mouth.

I suppose I can't really help that women are tripping over each other for a chance to snog me.

I glance over at Freddie, who's currently having an intimate snagging session with the brunette. He's grabbing her arse, and she in response is sticking her hands up his shirt.

I don't feel anything between Arabella and I, but what right bloke will give up a good snog with a hot girl? I pull her closer to me, and she deepens the kiss, and I can feel her hands grabbing at my shirt, wanting to pull it off.

I gently move her hands to her side, and break apart from her. She looks dumbfounded, until I say, "Freddie, we're almost at Hogwarts! We'd best be getting into our robes."

Fred also pushes the girl he was snogging aside, and without a second look from us, they leave.

My hair must be quite messy and I know my lips must be red and swollen from all of that snogging. I hurriedly throw on my red robes and Fred and I leave the compartment, joining the hordes of other students waiting to get to Hogwarts.

I glance behind me and notice Ivy. She's looking down, not really paying any attention to anything. I wonder for a moment how in the world she was sorted into Gryffindor, considering she's probably never, not once in her life, done anything daring or courageous.

Suddenly her head snaps up and she meets my stare with fury. Her eyes glare daggers at me and I decide it might be fun to push her buttons some more.

"Ivy! Good to see you again," I say as I come to stand next to her. I notice how short she really is next to me. I bet she'd fit right under my chin.

"Fuck off, Potter!" she growls angrily.

"Now, now, that's not a nice way to greet an old friend!" I mock-scold her, widening my eyes.

When she doesn't say anything, I begin the shower of insults.

"So, Ivykins, you'll never guess what I was just doing!" I cry happily.

She continues to stare at the floor, not meeting my eyes.

"I was -" I lean closer to her so she can hear me perfectly. "Snogging."

Her eyes widen a bit as though she's never even heard the term used before, and I revel in it.

"Have you ever done that before, Ivy? I bet not, considering you're too ugly for any guy to ever want to snog. Hell, you're not even worth snogging and then throwing away. You're too useless! I mean, c'mon." I know I'm being meaner than usual, so mean that any girl who hasn't been taunted by me for seven years straight would burst into tears, but I'm angry that I can't get any reaction out of her. "No one will _ever_ want you, Ivy. Ever."

And then I walk away, not realizing that a single tear has dripped down her face.

I've just gotten in place next to Fred, who smirks and asks, "What was that about?" when someone screams "Petrificus Totalus!"

And then my legs, arms, everything begins sticking together, and I fall to the ground, my mouth gaping open, unable to move a muscle.

I can't believe it! The little bitch had some nerve to hex _me, _James Sirius Potter!

Fred, utterly confused, kneels down next to me and mutters the countercurse, while others jeer in my direction.

Ivy stalks closer to me, and then smirks. Her anger has transformed into arrogance. "A little stuck, Potter?" She receives laughs from many students, and she grins.

"Mess with me again, Potter, and I'll do much worse than that to you," she hisses before walking away.

Now Fred's countered the curse, so I stand up and call after her sweetly. "See you in the Heads' Dorm later, Ivykins!"

I can see her freeze for a second before melting into the crowd. I cock my head. This year'll certainly be interesting enough.

Finally, we get off the train, and we're lead into the castle by some of our professors. After a quick lecture by Headmistress McGonagall, I'm off to investigate the Heads' Dorm, which is on the seventh floor.

I travel up staircases and turn through empty hallways before reaching a large portrait that has a chivalrous-looking knight.

"Damm!" I mutter under my breath. I forgot to ask McGonagall what the password is!

"Need a little help?" I turn to see Ivy leaning against the wall, watching me.

Fine, Ivykins. Two can play at this game.

I plant my most seductive look onto my face and walk up to her, backing her up against the wall. "More than a little help," I murmur, my lips so close to hers. My forehead is touching her hair, and her eyes are filled with ice. She's so pretty….

Wait, _what?_

Smirking, Ivy bites her lip and puts her face even closer to mine. "I'd sure love to help you out," she purrs silkily, leaning in.

I close my eyes, waiting for her to kiss me. But instead, I feel a whipping pain that slashes across my cheek.

_That little wench just slapped me!_

"Do you really take me for another one of your sluts, Potter? No! Unlike half the girls here, I actually have some class!" Ivy sneers.

"It's not like I'd ever want an ugly bitch like you, MacMillan," I snarl back at her. "You should really wear some makeup. It might hide some of that hideous thing you call a face."

Ivy sidesteps me and continues walking, stopping at the portrait. She turns to me, curls her lip, and says clearly "Petrificus Totalus."

The portrait swings open and Ivy steps inside.

I can't believe she made the password 'Petrificus Totalus'! I'm sure she did it on purpose, as a slap in the face, rather.

Huffing angrily, I walk in behind her and gasp a little. There's a small common room, with a couch and two comfy chairs, a bathroom, and two bedrooms with small staircases leading up to them.

And the whole place is decked out in Gryffindor colors!

Ivy, being as calm as she always is, quietly walks up to the room on the left side, her robes swishing behind her.

I'm giddy with excitement, and can hardly wait to have a whole common room and my own room! It'll surely be helpful for shagging sessions.

I walk up the staircase on the right, and when I peek through the doorway, the sight is absolutely brilliant.

Everything is red, for Gryffindor of course. Red banners, red walls, red bedding. My bed, oh, it's so big and plush! It's a canopy too.

Sighing, I mutter a charm that sends all of my clothes into the closet and into drawers.

Against my better judgment, I decide to check on Ivy to see if she wants to start arranging patrol schedules and doing all of the duties that a Head does.

I silently sneak down the stairs and go up Ivy's. I pray that the stairs won't creak, and thankfully, they don't.

Ivy's door is open a crack, so I nudge it open a bit more and peek in.

Ivy's lying down on her bed, sobbing quietly into a pillow. My heart drops a little and I feel guilty for saying all of that horrible stuff to Ivy.

Then I remember that she hexed me in the corridor, and my heart hardens.

But in the corner, a tiny corner of my heart, I feel guilt. Not like I'm gonna let it show, though.

I sneak back into my bedroom and change into my pyjamas, figuring that I'll get the whole Heads' thing sorted out tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

How His Heart Changed

Chapter 2

(Ivy)

"Eugh!" I groan as I get up from my bed. I'm so tired, and last night I barely slept. My face must be blotchy from crying. I hate crying, y'know. I don't usually do it. Last time I cried was when my dad died, well, aside from last night. But Potter is such an insensitive arse, he says the meanest things and doesn't give a damn about how he horrible he makes me feel.

Stupid, good-looking git!

Hold on. Good-looking?

'No, Ivy,' I chastise myself mentally. 'James Potter is a right foul git. He's not good-looking!'

But no matter how much I scold myself, I know I'll always think of Potter as the good-looking prat who made my life hell.

Potter's tall, much taller than I am. He's about 5'11, whereas I'm only 5'3. He's got jet-black hair that's always messy, due to the fact that he's always running his fingers through it, and emerald-green eyes that seem to stare right through you. He's got a smirk that seems to be permanently plastered onto his face, and a temper that can flare at any moment. He's well-known for his troublemaking abilities 'round Hogwarts, and how he tends to get into duels and ends up hexing other students straight into the hospital wing.

I shake my head and walk to the door, where I peek outside to make sure Potter isn't in the common room, snogging another girl, many of whom I've deemed 'Hogwarts Whores'.

Luckily, Potter isn't there, and his door is closed, so I reckon he's in his room, doing Godric Knows What.

I crack open my door a tiny bit and tiptoe outside, where I begin to creep down the stairs as silently as possible.

I'm almost to the bathroom when, of course, I manage to trip over my own feet and crash to the ground with a loud thump.

"MacMillan?" Potter's voice drifts out from his room, and the door begins to open.

"Dammit!" I mutter under my breath, silently cursing myself. Of course, now Potter'll come out and smirk some more and laugh and make fun of me.

Potter's head pops out from behind his door. "Hey, MacMillan, what was tha-" His eyes land on me on the floor, and I blush as I stand up, trying not to trip again.

Potter bursts into laughter, just as I expected. I roll my eyes and snatch my robes up, marching away into the bathroom.

Potter is such an annoying prat!

I slam the door behind me, satisfied when I hear Potter jump a little. Turning to face the mirror, I take in my reflection.

Oh, Merlin!

It's worse than I thought. My eyes are puffy and red and my face is tear-streaked. My black hair, which I had straightened yesterday, is a mess now.

Dear Godric. I can only hope Potter didn't notice.

Well, knowing my luck, he probably did.

I sigh and glare at my reflection. _Stupid Ivy. Going and acting all weak. Crying's for babies._

I quietly take out my wand and start muttering charms under my breath. My hair de-frizzes itself and thankfully, doesn't look too horrible. There's really not too much I can do about my face, besides use makeup.

Ugh. Makeup. I hate makeup. The slags in this school are always covering their faces in it, so much that my best friend, Amelie, and I like to say, "Watch out, there's some face on your makeup." Not that I've ever actually used that line on anyone yet. But maybe on the Ogden girl , or perhaps her best friend McLaggen. They're two of the biggest sluts that the school has ever seen, and I hate them. They wear too much makeup, they're even more stupid than James Potter himself, and their high-pitched, nasally voices are so annoying!

Fixing my attention back on my face, I rinse my face with water and decide not to put on any makeup. I've not a clue what I'm doing when it comes to makeup, and knowing my clumsiness, I'd probably end up poking myself in the eye with the mascara wand.

Shaking my head, I take a quick shower and wrap myself up in a thick, fluffy towel. I push the door open a slight bit, and peep my head out.

And James Potter, the biggest prat in the world, is standing right in front of the door, a huge smirk decorating his face.

My cheeks immediately turn crimson, and I try to keep from bashing my head into the wall. Great. Now I've got to walk back to my room in a towel, all while James Potter ogles at me?

I curl my hands into fists and open the door completely, gritting my teeth. "Mind moving, Potter?" I ask him mock-politely, trying to ignore the shivers that move down my spine as he looks me up and down.

"Actually, I would." Is his rather rude reply. He just stands there, towering over me and smirking. I swear to Merlin, one of these days, I'll hex that smirk right off his face.

I draw my wand. "Oh, you're asking for it, Potter." I point my wand directly at his chest, seeing that's about as far as I come up to him. He raises his hands in defeat and moves aside.

"Fine, MacMillan." I'm breezing past him, when, of course, my feet stumble over each other again, and I fall. Again.

And then I'm aware that underneath this very, very short towel, I am completely naked. And I am lying on the ground. Right in front of _James Sirius Potter._

Dear Godric.

He starts grinning and staring at the rather obscene amount of leg that I have showing. My towel has hiked up so far that there's only a tiny bit of leg that _isn't _exposed.

Gathering my towel together (and whatever dignity that I have left), I shakily stand up and turn to Potter.

"Don't you have classes you should get to? Maybe studying, rather than spying on girls in the bathroom, would do you some more good." I say snottily, and then march into my bedroom.

I quickly change into my uniform, put my robes over it, grab my wand, snatch up my Potions book, and proceed to my first classes of the morning. Double potions with the Slytherins. Oh, joy.

Amelie and I both have completely different schedules, so the only time we'll ever see each other is at breakfast and at dinner. That means I have to suffer through classes and Head Girl duty without her. _Sigh. _

As I walk to the dungeons, where Slughorn's class awaits, I silently fume over James Potter.

'He thinks he's so great just because he's Head Boy and Captain of the Quidditch Team. Frankly, Quidditch seems like a stupid sport. I skipped all of my Quidditch classes in first year because I was too scared. So what? Potter doesn't have to mock me for it! Just because girls throw themselves at him, he's got a bloated ego. Ugh, that arse!'

I walk into Potions right on time, and Professor Slughorn sees me and smiles. "Oh, hello Miss MacMillan! Lovely to see you in class today!"

"Thanks, you too, Professor!" I reply sweetly. Being the charming straight-A student that I am, I've got all of the teachers thinking I'm a little angel. _Little do they know…_

"Oh, and Miss MacMillan?" Professor Slughorn interrupts my thoughts just as I'm about to take my regular Potions seat, where I usually sit next to a Slytherin girl (though, she's surprisingly pleasant and smart for a Slytherin) named Olive Nott. We never spoke much, and that was just fine with us. We did brew quite a brilliant potion, though.

"Yes, Professor?"

"You won't be sitting next to Miss Nott today, I'm afraid. Or for the rest of the year. I've pre-assigned pairs of students to work together this year."

I have a sinking feeling that I know who my partner is. "And who's my partner, Professor?" I ask politely, trying to remain calm.

"Mister Potter."

AGH! No! Not Potter!

"All right. Thanks, Professor." I slouch a little as I take a seat at a table all the way in the back. I arrange my books in a neat stack on the table and take out a quill and a few rumpled sheets of parchment. I move my stool to the edge of the table and keep my head down, opening my Potions, Year 7 book. I smile as the pages crinkle. I love the sound of a brand-new book being opened for the first time.

Slowly, more students begin to file in, and with instructions from Professor Slughorn, take their seats with their new partners.

Eventually, Professor Slughorn begins the lecture and Potter's the only one not here. I sigh and hope that he won't show up at all. Maybe it'd be for the better.

But, of course, my luck runs out and Potter shows up ten minutes late. His hair is sticking up all over and his shirt is untucked. He looks quite messy, and I suspect that he probably pulled some random girl into a closet for a quick snog, maybe even a quick shag. For some reason, this ticks me off and I cross my arms, annoyed.

"Ahh, Mr. Potter. Glad you decided to join us. Please have a seat by Miss MacMillan, as you two will be Potions partners for the rest of the year."

I can see a mischievous glint in James's eyes as he saunters over to me.

"Hey Ivykins!" James says smoothly as he slides onto his stool. He haphazardly throws his books onto the table. "Can I borrow a quill and parchment?"

I'm tempted to say no, but he's looking so sexy right now that I can't possibly resist. His eyebrows are raised and he's chewing on his bottom lip.

"Fine." I sigh and hand him a sheet of parchment and a new quill.

He gives me a heartwarming grin. "Thanks, Ivykins." He then leans over his parchment, scribbling something illegible on it. His elbow is touching mine, and I think about moving it, but decide not to.

Merlin, what's wrong with me?

We sit through class, sometimes exchanging insults and taunts but staying mostly silent. At the end of class, we've (well, honestly, it was mostly me) brewed a Herbicide potion, which Slughorn deems "perfect".

I slide off my chair quietly, and mutter a goodbye to Potter. "Bye, Potter."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Later, Ivykins."

And I realize, that I don't really mind my nickname.

I sigh as I walk to my next classes. Even though Potter's certainly quite handsome, he's still the biggest prat I've ever met.


End file.
